


the good war

by tobedecided



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Barton's Farm, Gen, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 21:00:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14577564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobedecided/pseuds/tobedecided
Summary: Clint reflects on his post-Accords retirement as he tries to find his damn dog.





	the good war

He felt a cool chill roll over his body. He shivered, instinctively.

 _Well that was fuckin’ weird,_ Clint thought, wiping away fresh sweat on his brow. The high had clocked in at 92 when he checked the news before heading out to feed the horses. He hadn’t even been outside for more than an hour, yet the back of his shirt was almost soaked through.

Of course, the weather wasn’t the only thing on the news that morning.

Clint looked over his shoulder, tightening his grip on the shovel he had just been using to scrape up horse shit. Retirement wasn’t always glamorous.

He shifted his stance, half expecting Fury to pop out from behind the tractor and surprise him.

Clint was growing impatient. Fucking aliens were in New York City—again. House-arrest be damned. When the hell was someone going to break him out?

He whistled. “Lucky! Hey boy, come here.”

Despite his best protests, having a dog really grew on him.

To his amusement, Lila had negotiated the terms: they would adopt a dog _if_ she promised not to date until she was 30. Clint predicted in a few years the contact would be redrawn, once Lila took a few notes from Auntie Nat’s playbook. Hopefully the little guy would live that long, Clint mused. With all the human food the kids snuck him, it’s a goddamn miracle he hadn’t dropped dead from a heart attack.

So, yeah. They had a dog now. And a poorly painted white-picket fence. It was his little piece of the American Dream, except for the constant monitoring for any contact with his former teammates, the shadows that follow him on his morning runs with Lucky, and a strict curfew—all courtesy of the federal government.

He didn’t regret his role in Rogers’ and Stark’s little drama. The Accords were fucked up, but his main concern had been, and still was, for Wanda. To ensure she didn’t meet the same end as her brother.

Given the chance to do everything over, he wouldn’t change a thing.

Well, no. That wasn’t entirely honest.

He would’ve come home sooner.

Needless to say, exile from one’s own country didn’t do wonders for his marriage. It wasn’t nearly the same as being away for weeks on end with Strike Team assignments. With SHIELD missions, he made the time to visit, and even when he couldn’t, he could always call Laura and the kids when the others weren’t looking.

Being labeled a war criminal, however, complicated things.

Clint shook his head, clearly sidetracked by his own thoughts. _Where the hell did that dog go_ , he wondered as he searched the rest of the barn. Lucky had just been napping next to one of the barrels of hay...

Clint decided to expand his search. He began jogging towards the house, still holding on to the shovel half-caked in horse shit. Not his weapon of choice, but in lieu of his arrows...well his arrows were locked up when he chose to be locked down at the farm. That bastard Ross probably destroyed them while the ink was still drying on his house-arrest agreement.

 _Just as well_ , Clint thought. Those arrows were Stark’s design. He didn’t need another thing to remind him of that asshole. The chaffing from his ankle monitor performed that job just fine.

The better part of himself bit his tongue. It was true that Stark was still missing, yes, but that didn't absolve him of his sins. That being said, Clint thought it was a tad premature for the the media to presume the man's death. Sure, Iron Man was last seen on a spaceship leaving Earth's atmosphere, but Stark had been to space before and lived to tell the tale, or more accurately, the warnings of what was yet to come.

Perhaps if they had been more of a team off the battlefield, Ultron wouldn't have happened, the Accords would've been dead on arrival, and Steve and Tony would've learned how to fucking talk to each other.

In the end, he dismissed these invasive thoughts; dwelling on the past wouldn't change the current hand he was dealt.

By now, Clint was within a few hundred yards of the house. He could make out his federal babysitters’ black SUV parked at it’s usual spot at the end of his driveway. He slowed down his pace and slouched his shoulders into a more relaxed demeanor. The last thing he needed to do today was have his trigger happy watchers shoot him for running over to their car with a shit-stained shovel.

He couldn’t make out who was in the driver or passenger seats due to the tinted front window. But as he approached the vehicle, he quickly saw that the side windows were rolled down about halfway.

“Hey, Tanner! Cregg!” Clint said confidently as he walked to the side of the car. It hadn’t taken him long to have their shift changes memorized after arriving back at the farm. It was Sunday, so that meant Tight-Ass Tanner and his new buddy Cregg were in attendance. Clint hadn’t managed a name for Cregg yet, but he had made himself a silent promise to get the man shit-faced drunk by the following week. His understood this goal was ambitious, but he welcomed the challenge. After all, it had taken nearly twice that to get Tanner’s last pal to sneak away during a night shift for some moonshine in the stables.

 _Good times_ , Clint reminisced.

“Windows rolled down, huh? Tanner, don’t tell me you brought tuna for lunch again.”

Clint quickly realized he was talking to himself. Through the half-open windows, he could see the car was empty.

 _Bathroom break, perhaps?_ Clint frowned. _But why leave the car running, AC on full blast?_

Clint made his way towards the farmhouse, sticking the shovel in the grass near the front steps before wiping his feet on the doormat. As he stood in the doorway, he noticed the front of the house was relatively quiet. It didn’t surprise him, though. Laura was probably sitting in the back sunroom reading to the kids. Now that he finally finished the long-promised sunroom floors, Laura spent most of her time there, whether she was tending to her plants or reading a book. It was simple things like these he had taken for granted, spending all those years running around for SHIELD. He always found a way to make it home, though. That had always been his true mission.

“Laura, honey?” Clint called out as he walked into the sunroom, attempting to mask his anxiety with a lighthearted smile. “Have you seen Tanner or Cregg? I swear to god, if they keep using our bathroom we’re gonna have to start charging them. Did you see last month’s water bill, I don’t—”

He paused. The sunroom was empty.

He found it odd that there was dirt on the furniture and around their new rug. Laura usually re-potted her plants out on the porch before bringing them inside. And the kids knew better than to let Lucky on the couch before a bath.

Clint knelt down and picked up one of Nate’s Little Golden Books off the floor, carefully brushing off the dust as to not damage the pages.

The entire house was eerily quiet as the weight of ominous silence slowly sank in. The only auditory disturbance was the sound of the floorboards creaking beneath his boots.

He ended up in a nearby chair, watching absently as the air pushed in from an open window caused the dirt to shift around the sunroom floor.

Clint hadn't yet discovered why—though, he would eventually and with it, the grief would follow—but he sat in his family's house completely alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanos killed his family, and his dog. I'm pretty sure in the post-credit scene of this fic, Clint goes full-blown John Wick and tears the newly renovated sunroom floor open, revealing his hidden arsenal of bows and arrows.
> 
> Anyway, I totally surprised myself with this one. I've never felt one way or the other about Clint, but I do find him interesting to write! And clearly he has some strong feelings about Tony...


End file.
